


Golden Age

by 2wisheslikeafool



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - College/University, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Nerdiness, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, everyone is a big dumb nerd, jock!Bucky, nerd!steve, weird meta stuff with comic book characters reading comics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-19 14:24:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2391605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2wisheslikeafool/pseuds/2wisheslikeafool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers has no idea why he wants to hang out with this guy. He's not sure how Natasha has put up with him for so long.<br/>Bucky Barnes has no idea why there are so many rules to all this nerd stuff. Natasha always makes it look so easy.</p><p>In which Steve works at a comic book shop, Bucky is a football player, Clint is either the worst or best Dungeon Master in the world, and Natasha puts up with a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When text messages appear in this fic, the sender's name appears as it is saved in the recipient's phone contacts.

Bucky Barnes is of the opinion that he is a great friend. Maybe the _best_ friend ever. He deserves a friendship metal for the shit he does for his favorite people. He fights the impulse to pull out his phone and text Natasha to tell her how great he is, but she's in class and he's doing this for her sake, after all.  
  
A bell half chimes, half clanks against the door as Bucky steps inside. The shop is bigger than he imagined, but nearly every inch of space is being used. Everything is bold and bright against the harsh red walls. It's disorienting, and worst of all, there are _people_ inside, or at least one person, which he wasn't really expecting. Immediately to his right, there's a big plastic display of dice. He turns to them and decides they're interesting, fascinating, _really_ , not just a way to ignore having to actually enter the shop. And after a second, they are actually pretty cool. Some of the complex shapes seem familiar. Maybe he's seen some on Nat's desk? He pokes through the containers with the hollow realization that he didn't even know he was missing out on a rich and complex world beyond his Yahtzee cup.  
  
"Can I help you find something?" Bucky's head snaps up. The voice is warm but close, closer than he expected. He hadn't seen the guy behind the counter, and here he is. He's smiling and maybe a little cute. No, full lips and that sharp nose, bright blue eyes behind thick rectangular glasses, _definitely_ cute, but Bucky is distracted by the guy's ears. They’re only a little big, but they're _prominent_ , like he pulled on them too much as a kid and they just got stuck.  
  
"I, um, yes. I think." Bucky pulls his eyes away from the guy's face. He's got a name tag reading STEVE pinned to his t-shirt, which has some kind of quote Bucky doesn't recognize. He looks back up to Steve's face. His eyebrows have climbed up his forehead, and the smile seems to have fallen to an expectant one.  
  
"I'm really not familiar with all this, uh, stuff." Bucky gestures limply toward, well, everything. "I'm looking for a birthday present. But I want it to be a good one. A real good one, you know?"  
  
Steve nods, rapid little motions that almost remind Bucky of a puppy. "Do you know what they like?"  
  
Bucky frowns. Natasha doesn’t really talk about this stuff to him. "I think she maybe likes Wonder Woman? Or like, the other one. With the cape I think?"  
  
Steve's lips press together hard and Bucky can't tell if it's to suppress a laugh or judgment. Probably both.  
  
"How about this, just tell me about her and I'll make a recommendation. How old is she? What kinds of stories does she like?"  
  
"She's my age, not some kid or anything. She likes," he hesitates. "She likes stories about girls who kick ass. Or just general ass kicking. She likes games I think, but she doesn't really like people, so maybe not a game. She likes stuff that's complicated, I think?"  
  
Steve nods. "Would you say she like fantasy or sci-fi more? Or you could just play it safe with superheroes." A guy approaches the counter with a small stack of books, but Steve doesn't break eye contact, which is both a little exciting and unnerving.  
  
"Fantasy, definitely. I know that one. She's made me watch Lord of the Rings like, a thousand times." Bucky rolls his eyes, but looks quickly back to Steve for a response. He nods with a sympathetic smile.  
  
"Okay, I think I can give you some guidance. Let me just help him." Steve nods his head toward the other guy and turns. Bucky wanders around the corner, eyes tracing over boxes of trading cards and plastic figurines. There is a whiteboard on the wall behind the counter with titles and dates written on it. There's also a section listing prizes for something called Friday Night Magic. Bucky blinks. That can't be right. They don't do magic tricks here, do they?  
  
"Alright, thanks for stopping by. I can’t wait for tomorrow. I have a great idea about the whole high priestess thing." Steve slides the comics across the counter and smiles at the other guy, _really_ smiles, and Bucky can't avoid looking. Steve looks up at the guy through his lashes, which is practically adorable, but his grin is just crooked enough to seem devilish. The expression looks almost intimate, and Bucky pulls out his phone to feel less like he is staring.  
  
Buckhead [2:47 PM]: do u shop at that comic book store on washington?  
  
Bucky can see that Natasha is typing her message seconds after his has sent. Bless her fast fingers.  
  
Romanov Cocktail [2:47 PM]: Yes. Almost exclusively. Are you there getting my birthday present?  
Buckhead [2:48 PM]: goddamnit nat  
Romanov Cocktail [2:48 PM]: Not my fault you're transparent. You'd better be getting me something good.  
  
"Yes, but I swear to god, Rogers, if you try to pull a stunt like you did in the village, I will make sure you get killed by orcs. No, worse. I will turn you into an orc."  
  
Buckhead [2:49 PM]: okay well ANYWAY there is a cute person here and i gotta know if he is in yr lil dweeb circles  
Buckhead [2:49 PM]: also do they really have magicians come to these places on friday nights? what do yr people get up to??????

Buckhead [2:49 PM]: also aren’t u in class? wtf

  
"Aw, come on. That was a fun session and you know it. The orphanage will be able to go on for another year now!"  
  
Romanov Cocktail [2:50PM]: Got out early.  Ask Cute Boy about the magicians. He’ll think you’re witty.  
Romanov Cocktail [2:50PM]: It's very likely that I do know him, so let me know if you get a name.  
  
"I had to come up with all of that shit on the spot. A whole week of planning got discarded because you had to play daddy to a dozen halflings. We were _supposed_ to get to the dragon nest last week, Steve. Dragons. Don't fuck up my dragons this week." The guy looks over at Bucky like he wants backup about or something. Bucky feels his eyes go wide, but he nods at the stranger reflexively.  
  
The guy gestures at Bucky with the hand that isn't grabbing his shopping bag. "See, this dude knows. He understands the importance of dragons."  
  
Steve gives a little wave as the guy stalks off toward the door, slouching heavily. "See you tomorrow night, Clint." Steve smiles apologetically. "Sorry. Old friend. Let me get you some recommendations."  
  
Buckhead [2:53PM]: steve. last name is maybe rogers? blonde, glasses, blue eyes? tell me everything you know  
  
Steve flips up a section of the counter and heads toward the center of the shop. He walks with certainty into a cluster of tables covered in rows of long white boxes. Bucky trails behind, feeling a bit like a duckling. His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he keeps it there. It's only in close proximity that he realizes how small this guy really is. Not just in a short way, either (though Bucky _is_ a damn full head taller than him). He is tiny, delicate almost, and so skinny that even his wrists look knobby. The image is made worse by his oversized t-shirt and baggy jeans that scrape against the ground with each step. This guy has got to be younger than him. Maybe still in high school. No adult would dress himself like that.  
  
"I think I know just the thing," Steve mumbles, slowing. There are boxes everywhere, each one completely filled with comics. He turns to one specific box, which is impressive since every box looks the same as the last. Steve flips through the issues methodically, the tip of his tongue poking through the corner of his mouth. Bucky looks down at his phone.  
  
Romanov Cocktail [2:54PM]: I know him very well. Too much for all of it through text. He goes to our school, have you never seen him on campus?  
  
"Ah, here we go."  
  
Buckhead [2:57PM]: UGH NAT NO I HAVENT is he nice? is he weird? do you like him? is he straight? please tell me he isn't a freshman or a creep  
  
He has a stack of comics laid out on top of the box closest to Bucky. The cover has a woman busting out of a metal bikini, posing suggestively with a bloody sword. Bucky flips the little book up to see the cover of the next one. The woman is in on a horse this time. She almost reminds him of Nat, though it's probably just the red hair. Natasha prefers hand to hand combat, not swords, and he's honestly not sure she's ever worn this little clothing. Seriously. He imagines she showers fully clothed and scowling.  
  
"No way. This is too porn-y."  
  
Steve's eyes go wide. Shit. Now he's gone and scarred the poor kid.  
  
"I mean, it looks like it was made for sad dudes." Steve's eyebrows come together. Still not right. "There's a lot of skin."  
  
"Right, but look." Steve through flips a few pages. The spread shows the woman beheading a man gruesomely. Steve even points to it and looks back at Bucky, as if he can’t see it. "You said badass. Red Sonja is a _total_ badass. An old school badass. Plus, you said she likes fantasy."  
  
"Oh yeah, this is fantasy alright," Bucky mumbles sourly.  
  
"Yeah, actually, it is." Steve's mouth goes into a hard line, and his tone follows suit. "It's not like she's just a girl version of a superhero. She's not even super, really."  
  
"Oh, great, she's not a superhero either. So what's her thing then? Magic boobs?"  
  
Steve sighs, clearly annoyed. "She has powers granted to her from an ancient goddess. I don't want to tell you more in case you read it, but she's closer to a deity than a mutant."  
  
Bucky tries to stifle his laugh, but it comes out in a soft snort. "Trust me, you don't have to worry about spoilers." He flips through the next few pages. The woman kills more guys. She rides off on a horse. She sleeps under the tree. Like Natasha, she doesn't say too much. Maybe there is more than a little resemblance.

“I get it, you don’t care about comic books. But you clearly care about your friend, so think about what she’d like, not just you. There aren’t a lot of fantasy titles out there right now, and this is one of the best.” Steve’s face has lost its smile, and he’s half-glaring with his hand on his hip. Honest to God, his hand on his hip, like a crabby mother. Is this guy for real?

“Okay, fine, I’ll get her these. But can you recommend something else? Like, less sexy?” Bucky closes the open book and tucks them against his forearm.

“Let’s head this way.” Steve gestures toward a long wall of comics. Bucky shuffles behind him.

  
Romanov Cocktail [2:58PM]: Yes, nice. Very. Maybe weird. I like him well enough. No info on orientation. Not a freshman. Not a creep.

Buckhead [3:04PM]: he doesnt seem that nice tbh

Romanov Cocktail [3:04PM]: He’s nicer than you.

Buckhead [3:05PM]: WOW NAT FRIENDSHIP TERMINATED

Romanov Cocktail [3:05PM]: You’re just proving my point. <3

Bucky shoves his phone back into his pocket and sighs. Natasha is such an asshole sometimes. If she liked this Steve guy so much, why was this the first Bucky had heard about him? She’s probably just messing with his head.

“You know, I could get one of my co-workers out of the back and she could help you instead.” Steve’s voice is icy.

“Oh, shit dude, no. I was just texting my friend, and uh. Yeah. That wasn’t directed at you.” Bucky runs a hand through his hair and looks away. There’s a whole walled off area he hadn’t seen until now. It’s devoid of people, but could hold a few dozen, with tables and chairs lined up along the walls. He gestures toward the area, glancing back at Steve. “Is that where the performances are?”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “Performances?”

“You know, the magicians. Didn’t the board at the front say you have a magic show on Fridays?”

Steve smiles, tight lipped, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, it’s actually a game. People come in and play a game called Magic.” He rubs the back of his neck, smile stretching into a grimace. “There’s no rabbits in hats or anything. Just some guys and cards.”

Bucky’s stomach drops so hard he has to check the ground to make sure it’s not there, oozing on the carpet. Or maybe he’s just trying to avoid Steve politely trying not to ridicule him.

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry. You’re not the first person to think that. Not even the first this week, actually.”

It dulls the sting a little, actually, but not enough to allow Bucky to stop staring at the carpet.

“So, um, She-Hulk is really great right now. Hellboy is awesome too, but it’s a male protagonist, so that might not be what you want.”

“Which is your favorite?” Bucky mumbles.

Steve reaches toward the shelf just above eye level. Bucky almost curses out loud, because the heels of this guy's ratty blue high tops lift off the ground. Steve actually has to stand on his tip-toes, and Bucky isn’t sure if it’s endearing or pathetic.  
  
"This is one of my favorite series. I wouldn’t say this is a good issue to start on, but yeah. It's the best." Steve hands over the flimsy book.  
  
It's almost comforting to see the crazy body proportions applied to the guys as well as the women. The man on the cover is practically triangular, using his inhumanly large shoulders to break down a door. But really, the outfit is almost worse. His clothes are styled after the America flag, complete with a dweeby helmet that makes his ears stand out just like Steve's.  
  
"Captain America? That's... Wow. Is there a Captain Canada too?"  
  
Steve huffs. "No, there's not. The character was born out of World War II, patriotism was a lot more prominent then."  
  
"So what's his super power? Apple pie? Beating up bad guys?" Bucky holds the book at arm’s length and smirks at Steve.  
  
"He's a soldier." Steve takes the comic from Bucky's hand gingerly. "He was a scrawny, sickly guy, but scientists experimented on him, and he became strong. And for the record, everyone beats up bad guys. Even other bad guys. It's not an exclusive skill."  
  
"And out of all of these," Bucky scoffs, gesturing along the wall of comics. "Bikini babes and super guys and whatever else, you pick vintage propaganda? Pretty lame."

  
"See, that's where you're wrong. Other superheroes, for the most part, it's about themselves. They're out for revenge, or to prove themselves. But Captain America wants justice for the sake of justice, goodness just for goodness. He's selfless, and that's what a hero should be."  
  
"Well, damn. You sure have put some thought into this." Bucky scrubs his palm against his jaw.  
  
Steve just shrugs, a whisper of a smile on his lips.  
  
"Now I have to like this guy, or I'm a communist _and_ a jerk. Your bosses must love you." Bucky takes the issue out of Steve's hands and reaches to the shelf for a few more.  
  
"You have no idea." Steve says through a sigh. "So, do you think you have enough for your friend? Seems like you've got a pretty good stack."  
  
"Yeah, I think this is good. I hope so, anyway. I'm kind of terrible at this stuff." They move toward the register. With his free hand, Bucky extracts his phone.

Buckhead [3:15PM]: i asked him about the magicians and he did NOT think i was witty. nat you are officially the worst

Romanov Cocktail [3:16PM]: Oh my god Barnes. You didn’t actually ask him if magicians came to the comic book store. You’re fucking with me, right?

Buckhead [3:16PM]: HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IT WAS A GAME  
  
"What stuff would that be? Giving gifts? Or just comics?"  
  
"Both." Bucky considers adding talking to cute boys, knowing when to shut up, knowing when Natasha is joking, and life in general to the list. "Yeah, both."  
  
"Well, I'm sure she'll like them, and I'll print you a gift receipt for safety." Steve smirks a little as he slides the stack of books into a large paper bag.  
  
"Thanks, man." Bucky hands over a stack of crumpled bills from his wallet. "And, uh, sorry about making fun of your favorite guy.”  
  
"I'm tougher than I look. I think I'll survive. I mean, I'll have to do some soul searching, but I'll live." He scoots the bag forward, the edge in his smile softening. "But really, you should pick up a few issues for yourself sometime. There's something out there for everyone, you just gotta find it." Steve presses his glasses higher on his nose, looking straight into his eyes. “Plus, you shouldn’t miss the magic show.”  
  
Bucky’s comeback gets stuck in his throat. “Uh, yeah.” He nods, forcing a smile. “Thanks again.” He steps back out into the afternoon light and takes a deep breath before climbing into his car.

Romanov Cocktail [3:17PM]: By paying attention to your surroundings? What happened to the termination of our friendship? I was already taking new applicants.

Buckhead [3:21PM]: we are having lunch after stats tomorrow and yr telling me all about steve as an apology

Buckhead [3:21PM]: dont kid yourself i am IRREPLACABLE and u know it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first MCU fic and my first ever multi-chapter fic so I'm very excited and nervous to share it with you! I'd greatly appreciate any and all thoughts/comments/criticisms in the comments. You can also find me at 2wisheslikeafool.tumblr.com.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint takes a huge bite of pizza and frowns. Steve isn’t sure he has ever seen Clint express anything other than delight while eating pizza.
> 
> "Don’t do it Clint. Just move on." Kate takes a hesitant sip of her drink and pulls a face.
> 
> "They aren’t fighting robots. They’re fighting kaiju." He wags a pizza crust in Jane’s direction. "Do you even hear yourself?"

Steve Rogers’ Wednesdays are the one day a week with a full hour for lunch, and he spends these precious free moments in the grass outside the student union. He feels a bit like a cliché, with a sandwich and a sketchpad, or sometimes a plastic tub of leftovers and a novel, but it feels too good to care. The sunshine on his skin lulls him into a dreamy state, and it’s early enough in the fall that the grass is still soft and green. The best part, really, is the people watching. From his spot in the epicenter of campus, he observes students in every state of their day: rushing, strolling, talking, kissing, and laughing. He loves the constant stream of sounds, the almost-chaos of it all, but he also loves being removed from it. Today, he has a well-loved paperback cradled in his lap, which is getting to a very intense spot when a shadow falls over him. Steve refuses to look up until a moment passes and it’s clear someone wants his attention. The high afternoon sun is right behind their head, almost obscuring their features.  
  
“Natasha?” Steve squints.  
  
“What are you reading?” she asks, stepping closer and sitting gracefully, with her knees folded underneath her.  
  
“Star Trek novelization. But it’s one of the better ones.” He slides the scrap of paper that doubles as a bookmark between the pages and snaps the book closed. “I didn’t know you had a lunch break at this time.”  
  
“Yeah, I have statistics before this.” She stifles a yawn. “You always eat lunch at this time?”  
  
“Every Wednesday, yeah.”  
  
“We should eat together more often.” She says it more like a command than a suggestion, but Steve nods all the same. “You ready for the session this weekend?”  
  
Steve groans. “Clint already chewed me out yesterday about not de-railing the plot with politics. But what did he expect? He approved the lawful good character; he should’ve known what he was getting into.” Steve’s a little sour about the whole thing. Dungeons and Dragons is about role playing, and Steve is just _playing_ his _role_.  
  
“I don’t think he’s upset. Your goals for the campaign don’t align with his, that’s all.  He’s unconventional, but he’s the best DM I’ve ever had. And even if he wasn’t, he could be much worse.”  
  
Steve tries to read her face, but it’s blank. She tilts her head at him, questioning.  
  
“I had no idea you thought so highly of him.” Steve tries to mimic her cool expression, but he can feel his eyebrows climb just a smidge too high.  
  
She shrugs lightly, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “I like to keep people on their toes. If he’s sure I approve of him, he won’t try so hard for my approval.”  
  
Steve can’t help but laugh. “You’re a piece of work, Nat.” A cluster of clouds passes over the sun, darkening the sky.  
  
Natasha opens her mouth to speak, but she stops, turning her head toward the stream of students behind her. Steve can just barely hear someone calling out her name. She sighs and stands, saying something under her breath.  
  
“Someone looking for you?” Steve asks, and immediately regrets it. Duh, of course she is. What a dumb question.  
  
“Yeah, I kind of forgot about my lunch date.” She cranes her neck for a moment and waves someone on the hill toward her, sitting again.  
  
“So you have a date-date? Or just a date?”  
  
Natasha mumbles something low that he can't quite make out.  
  
A dark haired guy pulls away from the crowd, taking long strides toward them. Without the sun in his eyes, Steve can make out the guy’s face as he approaches, and Steve’s stomach churns. He looks away, toward his shoes, which offer him no help. He would be happy to meet a friend of Natasha’s, except for the fact that this is the guy who came into his work yesterday. The guy with the mouth that Steve’s been doodling ever since. Which is entirely because it has a really interesting shape, okay? It’s not like it means anything. He’s not even completely sure _what_ about the guy makes him so uneasy, but Steve was sort of looking forward to never seeing him again after the whole thing.  
  
“I asked you to wait for me while I talked to Potts after class. Where is the love, Nat?” The guy is approaching fast, his loud voice filling the gap between them before he can. Natasha doesn’t turn to look at him, but face actually _lights up_ as the guy gets close.  
  
“I’d rather get a root canal than listen to you try to flirt with our married professor for a higher grade.” Natasha pats the empty spot of grass beside her. Steve wracks his brain for any kind of excuse to run away, but he’s already told Nat he has the hour free. She’s not the type to forget a detail like that.  
  
The guy barks out a laugh and moves to sit down cross-legged. “I don’t need a higher grade. I really did want to ask her about that cluster analysis problem. Besides, I wasn't _flirting_. What kind of monster do you think I am, anyway?”  
  
Natasha knocks her shoulder into his with a sideways smile and a sharp look in her eye. Steve isn’t sure he’s seen her touch someone on purpose before. Not like that, anyway. “I think you’re the rude kind of monster for not introducing yourself to my friend.” She tilts her head in Steve’s direction.  
  
The guy takes his eyes off of Natasha, and Steve forces a smile. The guy has a into a toothy grin. “Oh! Hey again.”  
  
“I didn’t know you two knew each other?” Steve is trying as hard as he can to keep his voice casual, but the guy's eyes are too blue and he’s too frazzled to be sure if it’s working.  
  
“Are you kidding me?” The guy turns to Natasha, brows pulled together. “You two are friends. You didn’t tell your _good_ friend anything about me?” The guy looks hurt by this. He glances back at Steve and then to Natasha again, his parted lips making a shape that Steve thinks should be illegal. It clicks in Steve's head. Natasha's weird warmth, the guy's nervous, concerned shopping for some girl he was obviously concerned about impressing. Steve wants to smack his forehead. Of course they're together. Two beautiful people like them. Of course.  
  
“It might come as a surprise to you, Bucko, but the world doesn’t exactly revolve around you.” Natasha murmurs. “I’m sorry, Steve. This is Bucky.” She pats Bucky’s slicked back hair. “We’ve been friends since, what, first grade?” Steve nods at Bucky and forces a smile. Bucky. The name fits perfectly somehow.  
  
“Kindergarten. We were in the same ballet class, remember? And your mom felt sorry for me ‘cuz I was the only boy.”  
  
Natasha smiles to herself. “I felt sorry for you, too. God, you were so uncoordinated.”  
  
“I was five,” Bucky protests, lower lip protruding, shiny and rosy. Is that color even humanly possible? Steve briefly thinks he is looking at an oversaturated photo.  
  
“And Bucky, this is Steve. He’s in the D &D campaign I’m in.” Natasha gestures.  
  
“But I first met you in the science fiction club,” Steve adds.  
  
“I thought you just knew him from the comic book shop?” Bucky mutters, narrowing his eyes at Natasha.  
  
“I never said that,” she replies coolly.  
  
“How did you know that we had already met?” Steve asks her, flicking his index finger between himself and Bucky.  
  
“Bucky told me all about his first trip there yesterday. He mentioned he ran into you, but he doesn't really pay attention when I talk about people he doesn't know. Kinda like a baby, this one. No object permanence.”  
  
Bucky scowls at her but says nothing. Instead, he looks to Steve, expression softening a little.  
  
"Thanks again for only making me feel like a moderate loser instead of a super loser."  
  
“Did you feel like a loser just because you were there, or because you knew nothing about anything in the shop?”  
  
“Both, I think. Plus I said so much dumb shit to you.” Bucky drags a hand down his face.  
  
Natasha smirks. “You say dumb shit constantly. Don’t start feeling bad now.”  
  
Bucky ignores her. “So, since this jerk has failed to mention you, tell me about yourself.” Bucky rests an elbow on his knee, propping his head up on his fist. Steve's stomach twists, but he tries to squash it. This guy is not only straight, but taken, and most importantly, by one of Steve's friends. Still, none of that stops Bucky's cheekbones.  
  
“I’m a junior, double major in political science and art. I’m the vice president of the science fiction club, but it’s really more of a book club, I guess. I have a really cool roommate. I work a lot. I don’t know.” Steve shrugs and brushes a strand of hair behind his ear.  
  
“Who is your roommate?”  
  
“Sam Wilson. He's a-“  
  
“No shit?” Bucky’s eyes go wide. “Dude, Sam is the greatest. I’ve been over to his place a billion times. How have we never met?”

Steve shakes his head.

“Sam’s the best wide receiver I’ve ever seen, and he makes the most amazing chili ever. Seriously. Being his roommate is probably the best gig in the world.”  
  
Steve smiles apologetically. "I wouldn't know. Vegetarian."  
  
Bucky shakes his head. "Dum Dum's girlfriend is a vegan, Sam made a batch for her with just beans. Maybe some kinda tofu. It was pretty much just as good."  
  
"Which one is Dum Dum dating again?" Natasha has a delicate crease between her eyebrows. Bucky runs his tongue across his lower lip and smiles.  
  
"Now who doesn't pay attention?" Bucky teases.  
  
Natasha laughs. She scoots closer to Bucky and rests her head on his shoulder. Her hair drapes across his chest gracefully. The two of them are so sweet that it's physically painful. Steve has a lump in his throat, until he sees Bucky look down at Natasha, back at Steve, and roll his eyes.  
  
"You are so transparent, Romanov. You're trying to get cozy with me because the truth has come out. I'm not your favorite anymore." Bucky sighs dramatically. "Maybe 'lil Stevie was your best guy all along."  
  
Steve opens his mouth to retort. He's not anyone's little _anything_.  
  
"Will you forgive me if I buy you lunch?" Natasha coos.  
  
Bucky screws up his mouth in consideration. "Yes." Natasha smiles smugly and sits up. "But only if it's stir fry," Bucky adds quickly.  
  
She stands and brushes blades of grass from her jeans. "You wanna join us, Steve? I'm buying, apparently."  
  
Steve slides the book into his backpack. "Sure, but you don't have to bribe me. I can pay for my own food."  
  
"See? _That's_ why he's my favorite." Natasha deadpans. Bucky glares up at her, scowling like a bratty child.  
  
  
\---  
  
Steve shifts the pizza boxes to rest on one arm and knocks on the door.  
  
"It's open, Steve" a voice calls from inside.  
  
Clint's apartment was a lot worse when he lived alone. Steve had spent a few evenings here over the summer and saw no furniture other than a sofa and television. The first time he came over, Steve had tried to get a glass of water, but found the cabinets empty and the fridge only containing a ketchup bottle and a case of soda. He and Clint would eat Chinese food out of cartons and play board games on the floor with one of his neighbors. Steve never minded the bare bones lifestyle, but it always seemed strange. Clint isn't broke, at least as far as Steve knows. He once received a half-slurred rant about real estate investments, but he guesses that could've been about Clint's SimCity game. Still, Clint never seems to bat an eye at the totals he racks up at the shop, even when they _are_ pretty high. He just seems like the kind of guy who prioritized comics and DVDs over tables and chairs. When Kate moved in, she brought a great deal with her. Not just furniture and matching dishes, either. Clint has seemed a little brighter with her around. Her presence doesn’t just affect Clint, either. Something about Kate's wry charm makes Steve happy, too.  
  
"How did you know it was me?" Steve asks, shuffling through the living room and setting the warm pizza boxes onto the kitchen counter.  
  
"Because you're the only one who is _ever_ early," Kate mutters from the sofa. Steve looks again and realizes she's upside down, dark hair brushing the hardwood floor and bare feet propped up against the wall, a clipboard standing up on her chest.  
  
Steve glances down the hallway toward the set of closed doors. "Is Clint here?"  
  
"Nope, he went on a beer run. Should be back soon."  
  
Steve flops down onto the couch next to her, not touching but close enough to pick up the harsh smell of formaldehyde from her direction.  
  
Kate looks up at him and drops the clipboard onto her stomach. "This is usually the part where you go on and on about the obscure documentary you want to watch. What gives?"  
  
Steve frowns, not sure if he wants to bring it up. "Nah, not this week. I brought Wrath of Khan." He pauses, chewing on his lip. "You ever find out your friend is dating someone and never told you? I mean, it’s not like I’m jealous. Just, I don't know. Left out?"  
  
Kate smirks. "Other than my lab monkeys, I mostly hang out with the likes of you and Barton. Well, Barton is my lab monkey too, but that's beside the point. I'm not very into people, and the people I _am_ into are usually too weird to pull stunts like that."  
  
"Yeah, right," Steve scoffs. “You love people, and they love you. You've got the entire biology department under your thumb. I saw that photo in the newspaper. You have a lab coat-wearing posse."  
  
"Yeah, but they’re still weird. This poor schlub working with diatoms told me I was a 'radiant genius' today. I mean, he's on the board of directors, but he's a schlub nonetheless." Kate lets her clipboard clatter to the floor and shifts to sit upright, throwing her legs over Steve's lap. "But seriously, don't sweat that kind of stuff. Relationships are weird. People are weird. Sometimes you can't talk about stuff until you know it's gonna stick. You don't want to go around telling people you're in love if you're just the flavor of the week." She looks a little distant, smoothing out a wrinkle in her jeans. Just when Steve's stomach feels heavy and he starts to worry she's going to quit talking, she looks up at him with a smirk. "Plus you're probably wrong. You were convinced Darcy and Jane were an item for two months."  
  
"That wasn't out of line. They were _always_ together, always touching, and Darcy came to a few Pride meetings." Steve is smiling despite himself now. He's been mentally revising his speech about his happiness and hopefulness for Clint and Kate ever since Steve met her. This is as close as she has ever come to talking about it, and it's still light-years away from admitting anything. For the first time, he's a little grateful for his friends' mutual denial; it’s the perfect diversion for the fact that he's really talking about Natasha.  
  
"She only came because she had the hots for the president. Or maybe it was the vice president, I forget now." Kate's eyes roll. "You're kind of just of proving my point."  
  
"Wait, for real? Was it Jessica or Peter?"  
  
Kate opens her mouth to respond, but gets distracted, turning her head toward the door. A loud thump hits the door before it opens.  
  
"Kate, do you like wine coolers? I got some wine coolers ‘cuz I know you hate beer." Clint pushes the door open with his hip, a heavy looking bag in each hand.  
  
"I tried to explain the difference between wine and wine coolers, but he didn't believe me," a female voice calls from the hallway.  
  
"It's got wine in the _name_ , Darcy, so it's _wine_."  
  
"Clint, real talk. How are you a functional human being?"  
  
He shuffles into the apartment, kicking off his shoes on the way to the kitchen. "You like red wine, I got red wine coolers. Well, there's all kinds of colors." His groceries hit the laminate counter with thumps and clinks. Darcy trails behind him, setting a glass dish covered in tinfoil on the counter. Jane flops onto the sofa next to Steve, pressing her cheek into his shoulder, yawning. Kate slumps further to tap her feet on Jane's thigh.  
  
"Did Nat cancel on us this week?" Jane mumbles.

Steve isn't used to this much contact from girls, or anyone, really, but these two are special cases. Jane has a long distance boyfriend (on whom Kate and Clint have a running bet about him being completely fictional) whose absence leaves her cycling through grumpy, sulky, and cuddly, though sometimes all three at once. And Kate, well, Kate just likes to use people as furniture. She came to one of Sam's parties once and sat in his friend’s lap through most of the evening, but called Steve in a state of total confusion when the guy asked her out the next day.  
  
"Yeah, but she really intended on coming this week. She got stuck with her least favorite shift at work."  
  
"So what are we watching tonight? I forgot to bring an option."  
  
"I brought Time Bandits and Pacfic Rim," says Darcy, four opened bottles pressed between her arms and chest. "What is this, some kind of Steve Rogers snugglefest over here?" She doles out the drinks carefully, a beer for Jane, cider for Steve, and a stubby bottle of unnaturally green liquid for Kate. She settles with her own beer into an overstuffed armchair.  
  
"God, no. If I was trying to get cozy with Rogers, he'd know. Besides, he's much too knobby for my tastes. Could you imagine waking up to one of these in your side?" Kate grabs at Steve's elbow playfully.  
  
"Ugh, no Pacific Rim. No lovey dovey movies, please," sighs Jane after a swig from her bottle.  
  
"Did you just call Pacific Rim a romance movie?" Clint asks through a mouthful of pizza.  
  
"Yeah, I mean, they're fighting robots, but they’re also _in love_."  
  
Clint takes a huge bite of pizza and frowns. Steve isn’t sure he has ever seen Clint express anything other than delight while eating pizza.  
  
"Don’t do it Clint. Just move on." Kate takes a hesitant sip of her drink and pulls a face.  
  
"They aren’t fighting _robots_. They’re fighting _kaiju_." He wags a pizza crust in Jane’s direction. "Do you even hear yourself?"  
  
"They're not _fighting_ robots. They’re fighting _robots_. Robots who fight."  
  
"Okay, you win that on a technicality. But lovey dovey? Really? You watched that whole movie and got love out of it?" Clint waves his pizza crust at the rest of them. "Any of you guys walk out of that film with hearts in your eyes?"  
  
"Yeah, but mostly because of Stacker Pentecost," says Darcy with a smirk.  
  
"There’s a lot of love in that movie. Love for human kind, for family, for the family you create." Steve shrugs. "And besides, the two scientist guys had just as much chemistry as Mako and Raleigh."  
  
Jane giggles into Steve’s shoulder. Clint shakes his head and returns to the kitchen, muttering the whole way.  
  
"I swear, Rogers, sometimes I worry your gay goggles won't ever come off," Clint calls from the hallway. "I had a hankering for War Games myself. I could settle for Time Bandits, though."  
  
Steve wedges the amber bottle between his knees. Kate taps a finger against his leg. She raises her eyebrows, holding out her still-full, possibly nuclear drink. Steve grimaces and swaps bottles with her. She winks and takes a huge gulp.  
  
"I brought Wrath of Khan, if anyone is interested in that." Steve takes a sip of Kate's drink. It's sweet and tart, with so much artificial green apple flavoring that it tastes more like candy that alcohol. It's exactly what Steve likes, and he smiles at Kate.  
  
"Jane said no romance, dude. I know you're the expert on all things queer and sci-fi, but even _I_ know that Kirk and Spock are in love. Especially in that one."  
  
"Whose wearing the gay goggles now, Clint?" Darcy laughs.  
  
Clint makes his thumb and index fingers into circles and presses them over his eyes, sticking his tongue out at Darcy.  
  
\---  
  
They settle for Time Bandits. Kate leaves halfway through to catch up on lab reports. Jane falls asleep on Steve's shoulder shortly after. When Steve says his goodbyes, Darcy and Clint are arguing about toaster ovens in as hoarse whisper-yells.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky, if he had to guess, would have pegged Steve to be one of those existential drunks who slurs on and on about the meaning of it all. The reality is worse. He's a cheerful drunk, with ruddy cheeks and a glassy eyed smile at nothing in particular.

Nobody really goes to Sam Wilson's dinners for the camaraderie. Sure, it's nice to hang out, even in Sam's cramped apartment, but it's really about the food. He doesn't even make complicated stuff, either; Casseroles, mac and cheese, lasagna, and even the occasional grill-out when the weather permits. It's the taste that keeps people coming. Sam always says the secret ingredient is love, but Bucky is pretty sure it's butter, or maybe garlic. The mass texts warning the incoming feasts specify any needed additions. Still, Bucky feels pretty crummy about rolling up to Sam's with a bottle of vodka and cake he bought at the grocery store. As he climbs the stairs, Bucky is pretending it's his paltry offering that's knotting his stomach, and not the knowledge that this is _Steve's_ apartment too. Bucky knocks and wipes a hand on his jeans. He's been here more times than he can count. How had he missed Steve?  
  
Jim Morita flings the door open, smiling and taking the goods from Bucky.  
  
"Man, I'm glad you're here. I was worrying it was gonna have to send out reminders. Is everyone busy right now or what?" Sam is standing over a pan of sizzling vegetables.   
  
"Dunno. I think Dernier mentioned an Econ exam, now that I'm thinking about it." Bucky slips his sneakers off and sets them by the door with the others. He recognizes the tattered blue converse Steve was wearing at the comic book shop, and he kind of hates himself for remembering that detail.  
  
And now that he's looking, _really_ looking, Bucky can see details everywhere. There's a sketch of Sam, a great sketch, tacked behind the couch with a date and SGR written in the bottom corner. There's an entire shelf of science fiction DVDs. He opens a kitchen cabinet and finds a set of pint glasses, carefully aligned and all printed with pictures of superheroes. Bucky picks a Captain America glass out of the lineup and fills it with water.  
  
He can't place _why_ , but it makes him mad. Nat and Sam are their own people with their own lives, sure. But they feel like _his_ people. And with Steve being so close to them for so long, he's starting to wonder how much he doesn't know about everyone else, too. There could be a whole network of people he’s just one degree away from. Maybe Gabe has an evil twin, or-  
  
"Something wrong?" Jim asks, peeling his eyes away to question Bucky. Dum Dum is playing some kind of car chase game, and as soon as an explosion detonates, Jim's eyes are back on the screen.  
  
"Nah, just tired." Bucky settles on the couch near them. "Hey Sam, 's your roomie eating with us?"  
  
"Eh, who knows. He should be off work soon, but he's not always real social. Most of the time it's not his scene."  
  
"Yeah, well, we can't all be _you_ , Sam." Dum Dum says.  
  
"The world might just be a better place if that were the case, though," says Sam with a laugh. "Can someone send a few texts for me? I've kind of got my hands full."  
  
Bucky cranes his neck and sees Sam shaping a huge meatball in his hands. Bucky sets his drink on the coffee table and shuffles over.  
  
"Okay, but if I stumble across any dick pics, I'm forwarding them to your mom."  
  
"In your dreams, Barnes."  
  
\---  
  
Bucky is still half expecting Natasha, and doesn't bother checking the door when it opens and shuts without anyone knocking. That's always her style, no matter whose apartment it is. He is blowing on a steaming hot wooden spoon inches from his mouth, antsy to try Sam's new tomato sauce. When he can't take it anymore, Bucky touches the tip of his tongue to the thick red sauce. It tastes like basil and oregano and comfort and happiness. It hurts like hell, too, but Sam's outdone himself. He puts the whole spoon in his mouth, moaning.  
  
"Fuck, Sam. It tastes like sunshine. Are you serious with this?"  
  
"You sure it doesn't need more salt?"  
  
"Lemmie get another taste, just to be sure." Bucky grins and moves the spoon back toward the pot.  Sam makes a disgusted noise and swats Bucky's hand away.  
  
"Don't put that back in, it's been all in your mouth. You'll taint the whole batch."  
  
Bucky huffs, spins the spoon around, and dips the handle into the sauce. He smirks at Sam and makes a show of tasting the sauce again, rolling his eyes back and groaning. He turns to his friends on the sofa, and finds Steve standing in the doorway, paused in the middle of hanging up a jacket, eyes wide.  
  
"Oh, hey Steve," says Bucky, spoon still in his mouth. "You hear from Natasha? I invited her."  
  
Steve shakes his head, not breaking eye contact.  "She, uh, got called in for work again. That one guy there keeps skipping out. You know, the one she hates."  
  
"Pretty sure Natasha hates everyone at her job, might have to get a bit more specific," Sam mutters, pulling the spoon from Bucky's mouth. He holds it at arm’s length and drops it in the sink unceremoniously.  
  
"You hungry?" Bucky asks.  
  
Steve nods. His perfectly combed side part looks mussed, and there are bags under his eyes that definitely weren't there the other day.  
  
Bucky opens the freezer and pulls out the bottle he brought. He puts on his most wicked smile. "You thirsty?"  
  
Steve does something between a laugh and a sigh, but nods. "Do your worst."  
  
"Oh, I was planning on it."  
  
Bucky watches peripherally as Steve shuffles to the sofa and sits at the same edge Bucky had been occupying.  
  
"Long day in geek town?"  
  
"I did inventory with my grumpy boss, who used the opportunity to lecture me like he's my dad and complain about how untrustworthy the whole staff is."  
  
"Sounds like he needs a double," says Sam. "Meatballs are almost done, should all be ready in less than ten, fellas."  
  
Bucky pours less than he would for himself. One, because he doesn't want to get the guy _drunk_ , just loosened up a little, and two, because he looks so tiny that half a beer could get him bombed. He rummages through the fridge and mixes in cranberry juice and a splash of lime. Bucky sets it in front of Steve with a flourish and settles down on the carpet, just to the side of Steve’s feet.  
  
"Am I in your spot?"  
  
"Sorta, but I don't mind. How's the drink?"  
  
Bucky watches Steve take a tentative sip. His eyebrows rise and he takes a bigger taste.  
  
"Good, wow. Real good. Thanks."  
  
"Bucky, let's make a pact. If we all fail Potts' class, we can drop out and open a restaurant. I'll do the cooking, you man the bar. Whaddya say?" Sam calls from the kitchen.  
  
"What about Nat? She's been whining about it too." Bucky says with a disapproving sigh. "I don't see what the big deal is. Pepper is a great teacher. It's not her fault you don't understand statistical analysis."  
  
"First of all, I know you are _not_ on first name basis with that terrifying woman. I'm just going to pretend you never said that." Dishes clink and cabinets thump shut. "Second, I am great at stats. I'm just bad at that class." Sam steps into the living room loaded down with four heaping bowls of pasta. He distributes them amongst the men with a smile. "And last, I didn't forget Nat. She's the boss in this fantasy, obviously. Can you see her being anything else?"  
  
\---  
  
Steve was a step past tipsy after the first drink, but he's asked Bucky for two more since then. Bucky, if he had to guess, would have pegged Steve to be one of those existential drunks who slurs on and on about the meaning of it all. The reality is worse. He's a _cheerful_ drunk, with ruddy cheeks and a glassy eyed smile at nothing in particular. The edges of his ears are a bright, almost violent red, and Bucky really wants to touch them, to find out if they feel as warm as they look. He wishes he could blame the desire on inebriation, but his stupid superhero glass has only held water all night. Everyone else split when their bowls were empty (though Dum Dum had a second round). Bucky is the last guest, still nursing half a piece of chocolate cake. The only sounds left are the clinking of metal and ceramic as Sam washes dishes.  
  
"Can I ask you a personal question?" Steve asks. Every syllable is long and heavy, and he's smiling like he's telling a setup for the greatest joke in the world. Bucky's stomach drops. He spins his fork between his index finger and thumb.  
  
"I know what you're going to ask."  
  
"You do?" Steve's eyes are wide, and his smile is wider.  
  
"Yeah, and the answer is no, I haven't read all the comic books I bought for Natasha's birthday." Bucky smiles. It isn't _entirely_ a lie. He's only read a few of them. But he's still got time.  
  
"That's not what I was going to ask." Steve hiccups, actually _hiccups_ like he is a cartoon character or something. Bucky resists the urge to walk out right then and there.   
  
"Just ask already."  
  
"Is... Are..." Steve sighs, struggling. "I mean, I don't want to be rude. How do I say this without being rude." He grimaces, embarrassed before he's even done speaking. He hiccups again and the sour expression is gone. "Is Natasha a good girlfriend? Is she good at like, romance stuff?  She's great and all, but she seems like she might be, I dunno, cold. I mean, she never even told me about you."  
  
Bucky's laugh comes out as a breathy chuckle. "Are you fucking with me Steve? Aren't you too drunk to be fucking with me?"  
  
Sam laughs from the kitchen.  
  
"I'm not fucking! It's a real question."  
  
"I'm the wrong person to ask, Steve. I mean, _I_ think she's great, but she's not for everyone, and more importantly, she's not my girlfriend, so..."  
  
Steve’s eyes go wide, and he hesitates over his words. "Did you get married?"  
  
"What? Steve, I'm 21 years old. I'm not married. I'm not even seeing anyone."  
  
"No, no, no. I get it." He shakes his head for emphasis. He hiccups and is actually jostled by the force, his shoulders pitching backward. "You're doing one of those things where you see other people too? But Nat is so _pretty_ , Bucky. And _you're_ so pretty. You could be pretty _together_. Why don't you see her only?"  
  
"Steve. Look at me." Bucky gestures to his eyes. "Natasha is my friend. Not my friend with benefits. Not my girlfriend. Not my wife." He can't help but laugh over the last one. "She's like my sister. I have never wanted her to be anything else."  
  
"Some people kiss their sisters." Steve says it like it’s a neat fact he learned from the underside of a bottle cap.  
  
"Well, that's on them."  
  
The dishwasher whirs. Sam claps his hands and rubs them together.  
  
"The dishes are done and the eavesdropping is getting weird out here. Goodnight, guys."  
  
"'Night, Sam." Bucky nods.  
  
Steve blinks at Bucky, lips parted, without acknowledging his roommate. Steve stares for a long moment with some kind of expression that Bucky can't read. He's about to feel like it's a significant look, but Steve hiccups again and the only important thing is how painfully endearing it is. "You never even wanted to kiss her when you were kids?" His voice is filled with disbelief. It makes Bucky a little sad. He's been down this road before. He knows where it leads.  
  
Bucky sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He's banking on Steve not remembering this part in the morning. "One time, in sixth grade. Okay? Happy now?"  
  
Steve bursts into a smile. "I knew it," he breathes.  
  
"We had just been reading Romeo and Juliet for school, and then we watched the movie. Don't ever tell her I told you this, but I think she's real into that old timey romance. Dudes in tights and stuff. Nat said we should practice kissing on each other so we could get good at it. I wasn't exactly smart enough to say no."  
  
"And?" Steve is hunched forward, barely sitting on the edge of the couch.  
  
"And it was gross! She bit my tongue and our teeth clicked together and we swore never to speak of it again."  
  
Steve gapes at Bucky, surprised and gleeful.  
  
"You can't tell her I told you. She might bite _your_ tongue as payback."  
  
"I could handle that." Steve wiggles his eyebrows with a sloppy grin, punctuated by a hiccup.  
  
Bucky's stomach hurts. This part is going to wipe that goofy smile away. "Look, under normal circumstances, I would put in a good word for you. I mean, you seem like a good guy. I'd probably even test the waters for you and see if she's interested. But I know for a fact that Nat is seeing someone right now, and it might be getting serious, so...." Bucky shrugs apologetically. "Sorry, bud."  
  
It's Steve's turn to laugh. "I don't want to date Natasha. She's beautiful. But she scares me."  
  
"She used to scare me sometimes, too. But now I know her well enough not to take her seriously. You'll get there someday. Probably."  
  
"Hey." Steve bites his lower lip, trying to look serious, but there is an unmistakable glint in his eyes. "Since you told me a secret, I can tell you one."  
  
"You shouldn't tell secrets when you're drunk, Steve. You might say something you aren't supposed to." Bucky's pretty sure he could get some serious dirt out of this kid if he pressed the right buttons.   
  
"Nah, it's about me. It's _my_ secret." Steve's voice is a whisper now. He's got that smile again, like he's about to tell a joke but he's already waiting for the punch line. He lifts his hand and crooks his finger at Bucky.  
  
Bucky rolls his eyes for show, but his mouth runs dry.  He leans in halfheartedly, pointing his right ear toward Steve, who either doesn't register the hesitance in the action or doesn't care. He sits on his knees and leans all the way in, cupping one hand around Bucky's ear. Steve's other hand is in Bucky's hair, palm flat on his scalp and fingers buried. He tells himself Steve is wobbly and just needs the extra support.  
  
Steve loses his balance, pitching forward and pressing his feverish cheek against the shell of Bucky's ear. He's trying hard not to laugh, not to go too stiff or too soft at the closeness. Steve, on the other hand, fails. He starts to laugh and pulls back, just an inch. His warm breath spreads down Bucky's neck, and he feels a brush of soft skin. It might have been his nose. It could have been his lips.  
  
"Me. Me too." Steve whispers. "Me and Natasha kissed once."  
  
"No. No way. You're a joke. You're joking." Bucky forgets to whisper too and shock has him stumbling over words. "How? Why? When?"  
  
"We went out to this club one time. I don't like clubs. But I wanted to try it. And this guy was being an ass. Such an ass. So I pretended to be her boyfriend." Steve's hand wriggles, scraping his fingernails across Bucky's scalp. Shivers run down his spine.  
  
"What happened next?"  
  
"He touched her butt so I punched him in the face. Then we left and got ice cream.”  
  
"When? Where did this happen?"  
  
Steve pulls back, mouth pulling wide into a silent yawn. "A couple months ago. The ice cream place was called Annie's? Amy's? Or maybe A-"  
  
"No, I mean-"  
  
"I dunno. Nat knows. It was her idea."  
  
"You know what, she did tell me about that. I remember she mentioned going to a club with one of her D &D buddies. I thought she was joking when she said one of them decked a guy."  
  
Steve nods and yawns again, audibly this time.  
  
"Need to get to bed?"  
  
Steve nods, bleary eyed. "Sorry."  
  
"Nah, it's fine. It's getting late anyway." Bucky stands on stiff legs and offers a hand to Steve. He looks up at him through his lashes and laughs before he swats the hand away.  
  
"I'm not that far gone, geeze."  
  
Bucky puts his hands up, relenting. "Alright, tough guy. I'll see you around, yeah?"  
  
Steve stands with less wobbling than Bucky expected. The motion is smooth enough to make Bucky doubt Steve was even drunk at all, but Steve hiccups again and Bucky gains certainty.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Anytime, Bucky." Steve gives a wave that Bucky returns before slipping his shoes back on. His thumbs are flying across his phone before Steve's front door is even closed.  
  
Buckhead [11:23PM]: NAT IF YOU VALUE OUR FRIENDSHIP AND/OR YR LIFE YOU WILL TELL ME IF STEVE IS A GOOD KISSSER AS SOON AS PHYSICALLY POSSIBLE  
  
Romanov Cocktail [11:27PM]: I cannot believe he told you. Don't get too attached. I may murder him.  
  
Buckhead [11:27PM]: THAT ISNT AN ANSWER  
  
Romanov Cocktail [11:28PM]: It was good. More aggressive than I expected. But that might have been the context. Why do you care so much?  
  
Buckhead [11:29PM]: because he is really cute. he is such a LOSER but hes precious. im trying not to think so but its getting harder by the minute  
  
Romanov Cocktail [11:30PM]: I'm sure that's not the only thing that's getting harder by the minute.  
  
Buckhead [11:31PM]: pls dont make dick jokes while im having an existential crisis ok


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Come on. Being critical of media isn't hateful. It's active participation in discourse. More than that, it's irresponsible to consume stories without questioning wh-"
> 
> "Ugh. Enough already. Take a joke, Steve."

"Do you think we need to order extra Batman annuals?" Maria is sitting on the counter behind the register, her legs swinging and thumping against the side.  
  
"Nah," calls Steve. He's re-alphabetizing the long boxes today and has just finished the B's. He'd rather not see the caped crusader ever again. This morning's headache is thankfully gone now, but the fluorescent lights are _almost_ enough to start it up again. He couldn't be happier that it's a slow afternoon.  
  
"Why am I asking you? You don't know. I'm getting extra." She stares at the list again and chews on the tip of her pen. "If I put you in charge of ordering we wouldn't have any Batman at all. All we'd have is your faves."  
  
"I am _not_ going to apologize for disliking a superhero who doesn't have any superpowers. Not gonna happen."  
  
"I don't believe for a second that you've read a single issue. I think you're just going off what other people say."  
  
"When your villains are more likable than your heroes, you've got a problem."  
  
"Yeah. Whatever. I forgot to ask, how was it working alone with boss-man yesterday? I don't see any visible bruises, so I assume it was okay?"  
  
"I mean, he said he wants to fire everyone, but I think he was just in a mood about the mess from the Magic tournament. Someone had a water bottle full of vodka last time, and there were some teenagers there. I wasn't working then, but it sounded like a mess. Plus the till was off by $20 and that sorta pushed him over the edge."  
  
"Are you serious? I told him the prize money was $20 short because attendance was so low last time. _He_ had me take it out of the register." Maria hops off the counter with a sigh and crosses over to where Steve is sorting, picking out a long box opposite his.  
  
"Remind him when he comes in tonight."  
  
"Oh believe me, I will." She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "At least he ignores himself as much as he ignores us."  
  
Steve shrugs. Talking about people behind their back makes him feel like a jerk. "He's a good boss. Not always nice, but never hateful."  
  
Maria nods. "I know, I know. Prickly, but with a soft underside."  
  
"Yeah, Nick the Porcupine."  
  
Maria laughs in earnest at that, holding on to the edge of the table and bowing her head. "I dare you to draw that one on the schedule board. Seriously."  
  
"But then I'd have to erase the one of Clint dressed up like a slice of pizza. That's my dry-erase masterpiece."  
  
"Come on, it's been up there for like a month. Can you imagine what Fury would say when he sees an angry little eyepatched porcupine up there?"  
  
"Yeah," Steve scoffs. "He'll either say 'goddamnit Rogers' or 'you're fired.' Something real adorable like that."  
  
Maria's retort is interrupted by the bell on the front door.  
  
"Good afternoon, welcome to Nick's Comics and Games," she calls without looking up. "Need any help today?"  
  
"Yeah, I, uh," the voice is male, and familiar. Steve turns around. Bucky is hovering by the counter, as wide eyed as the last time he was here. "Geeze, Steve, do you ever have a day off?"  
  
"Wednesdays. Usually the weekends. Though sometimes Sunday and Monday instead."  
  
"Well.” He clears his throat. “It's nice to see you've recovered from last night." Bucky smirks and walks over, though it looks almost like a saunter to Steve. Bucky stops in front of the box next to Steve and starts flipping through.  
  
Maria looks up, glancing between the two of them, brow furrowed. Steve shakes his head, hoping to keep the color out of his face.  
  
"Just a little headache. Nothing major," Steve lies. Before he had his coffee, he had actually considered calling in sick, something Steve does _not_ take lightly.  
  
"Do you remember anything we talked about?"  
  
"Enough to be embarrassed to see you." That part, sadly, isn't a lie. It was fun, sure, and it was nice to know he was just paranoid, that Natasha _didn't_ have a secret boyfriend. But still. He had called Bucky pretty, and tried to kiss him on the neck. Bucky certainly didn't seem bothered by it, but it was still a dumb thing for Steve to do. He wasn't even sure _why_ he did it, really. The skin there just looked so smooth, and he wanted to see how it felt on his lips (warm, very warm, as it turned out). Steve felt weird and a little woozy about it, but Bucky didn't any weirder than usual, so maybe it wasn't a big deal.  
  
" _You're_ embarrassed? I told you one of my deepest, darkest secrets, and you think _you're_ embarrassed?" Bucky doesn't look up, but he's smiling as his fingers dance over the tops of the books.  
  
"If that's you're deepest secret, you must have the depth of a kiddie pool."  
  
"Ouch, Steve." Bucky looks up and lays a hand over his heart. "That hurts. Nat said you were nice."  
  
"I am too nice. Maria, aren't I nice?"  
  
Maria's mouth pulls into a frown. "Well, you _did_ just call our boss a porcupine."  
  
Bucky's smiles, wry and wide. "I like her. Maria? I like you. That porcupine should give you a raise."  
  
Maria rolls her eyes, sliding a misplaced issue into the right spot. "Don't I know it."  
  
"So is there anything you're looking for today? Anything I can help you find? Or are you just here to pester me?" Steve needs to sort the box Bucky is pawing through. His mouth is moving with each title he comes across; quick motions that make Steve's stomach feel fluttery.  
  
"Gee, Steve, can't a guy just browse?" Bucky purses his lips, fingers stopped at an issue. "I was kinda hoping you wouldn't be here," he adds under his breath.  
  
The flutters are gone. Steve steps behind Bucky, heading to work on the next box. He can always come back to that one. A silent moment passes and Bucky finishes with his box. He turns to Steve, waiting. Steve refuses to look. He's pretending the box of comic books is his whole world, his prime directive in life.  
  
"Just trying to help you out. I can tell you what Nat doesn't have, if you need the info." Steve mutters.  
  
"Nah, I didn't mean it like that." Bucky sighs. "I was, well, actually shopping for myself."  
  
Steve looks up at Bucky and doesn't even try to hide the fact that he's staring. Bucky quickly looks back into the box he already went though.  
  
"I mean, my best friend is so into this stuff, and I've never given it a second thought. What kind of jerk does that?"  
  
Steve shrugs. "Sam is a great friend of mine. You don't see me asking him to explain football. Or jazz. Or any of the things he likes, really." Steve pulls a hand through his hair. "It's my job to sell comics, so I _do_ know a little bit about them. But if you'd rather not have me help you, if I make you uncomfortable or something, I'm sure Maria can make some great recommendations for you." Steve finishes flipping through his box and steps down to the next one. The whole thing is leaving Steve’s stomach in knots. They hung out last night like they were old friends. But now Bucky comes into the shop and hopes Steve isn't there? And even worse, thinks it's okay to _tell_ Steve that? What an ass.

  
"No, it's not that. God, Steve, have you seen yourself? You don't make me uncomfortable." Bucky pulls out a book and examines the cover before dropping it back in. Steve isn't sure how that comment was supposed to feel, but it isn't good.

"I wanted to be able to get something without having you hold my hand through the process. I was hoping the next time I saw you, I could bring up Wolverine #29 all casual with you."  
  
"Wolverine isn’t up to #29 yet," Steve says before he has the sense to stop himself. He hears Maria stifle a laugh from a few feet away.  
  
Bucky grimaces. "Never mind, then."  
  
Steve moves down to the next box in the row. "Honestly, I'd tell you to just do what you're doing. Look around and find something that looks interesting. Get a first issue if you can. Start in the middle. If you like the middle, you can always go back and get the earlier ones. It's not like alarms are going to go off if you accidentally like a comic book."  
  
"Will alarms go off if I don't like some? Is that allowed?"  
  
"No way. Steve hates half of what we sell. If disliking things was banned, Steve would be the first to go." Maria smirks at Steve. Bucky laughs softly.  
  
"Come on. Being critical of media isn't _hateful_. It's active participation in discourse. More than that, it's irresponsible to consume stories without questioning wh-"  
  
"Ugh. Enough already. Take a joke, Steve."  
  
Steve huffs and moves down another box.  
  
\---  
  
Bucky is in the store for more than an hour. He scans aisles of trades, flips through boxes, and spends a good portion of time pacing in front of the wall of new releases. Steve resists offering help every five minutes. Bucky looks so _intent_ , his brows knitted together and lips pursed. The alphabetizing goes quickly when Bucky isn't standing so close, tempting Steve to lean over and peek. When he finishes the task, he sits behind the counter again. He tears off a blank scrap of receipt paper and sketches Bucky's face. He tries to hide it when Maria comes by to retrieve her clipboard, but he's too quick about pressing his hand over the drawing. She pries his fingers away and gives him a scandalized look, but says nothing. A few people come in for this week's releases and leave, and finally, _finally_ , Bucky brings a stack of comics to the register. For the amount of time he's spent, it's pretty small.  
  
"Find everything okay?" Steve says brightly.  
  
"It's a little overwhelming."  
  
"Well, it looks like you've got a good start." Steve slides Bucky's stack across the counter, brushing his hand across the sketch of Bucky and sweeping it underneath the cash register. Steve’s favorite black pen is still sitting on the counter.  
  
"Sorry I was sour with you earlier." Bucky sighs and rubs at the back of his neck. "I'm just trying to be cool like you and Nat."  
  
That has to be a joke, right? Steve gives his friend a poisonous smile and starts scanning the comics. "Yeah. We're real cool. You should see us play D&D.  Everyone wears sunglasses and smokes the whole time. We all have to leave early to get back to our hot dates."  
  
Bucky bites at his lip like he's holding back an insult. "Is Natasha the only girl there? She talks about what you do, but she doesn't talk about the people that much. Should I be worried about her walking into a den of creepy dudes?"  
  
"You saying I'm a creepy dude?"  
  
"No, not you. You know what I mean."  
  
"I'm so sick of that stereotype. There are more girls than guys in our group, actually. They're all _extremely_ smart and beautiful. _And_ you know what? They’re better at it than the guys." Steve sort of maybe hopes the promise of pretty girls will entice Bucky into being interested.  
  
"So they win a lot?"  
  
Steve blinks, fumbling with a book and dropping it to the ground. "What'd you say?"  
  
"The girls. Do they win the game more than the boys?"  
  
Maria starts coughing violently, doubled over in front of a glass display of action figures. Steve picks up the book and presses his lips into a hard line.  
  
"Well, uh, you don't really _win_ Dungeons and Dragons." Steve slips in the last book. "Your total is $22.19."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yeah, these ones were on sale but th-"  
  
"No I mean, you don't win the game? Then how do you play? What's the point?" Bucky hands over a debit card.  
  
Steve shrugs and swipes the card. "It's fun. It's sort of like reading a book, but you and everyone else choose how the story happens." Steve slips the freshly printed receipt in Bucky's bag.  
  
"That was a stupid question, wasn't it." Bucky's mouth is set down, and he's not even really _asking_. He knows the answer.  
  
"Well, yeah. But it's confusing if you've never played. You should try it sometime. I'd bet my DM would let you sit in on a session. He'd probably love to have another guy join the group." Steve hands over the paper bag. "If you liked playing, and liked the rest of us, that is," he adds quickly.  
  
Bucky runs his tongue across his upper lip. Steve finds it entirely unnecessary and wishes he could see it again, maybe in slow motion. "Yeah, but will he let me wear sunglasses?"  
  
"If you show up, you can wear whatever you want," Steve says, trying to sound mock serious but feelings totally serious.  
  
Bucky pulls his bag off the counter. "Alright then, we've got a plan." He pulls on a dangerous smile, like he knows something Steve doesn't. "Oh, by the way. I meant to give this to you last night."  
  
Before Steve can respond, the cap of his pen is between Bucky's teeth. He grabs Steve's wrist and pulls forward, gentle enough not to hurt but still forceful. Steve thinks Bucky's hand is softer than he would've expected, but he kind of wants to punch himself for even _having_ expectations about Bucky, or any of his body parts. The pen point tickles the thin skin of Steve's wrist, and he tries not to squirm. Bucky clicks the cap back onto the pen and lays it on the counter. Steve retracts his arm to find a phone number written with a careful hand.  
  
"In case you want to borrow some sunglasses before your next session. Or make some plans that don't involve dragons." He punctuates the gesture with a wink. It’s not a figment of Steve’s imagination. Bucky actually _winks_ before turning and leaving.  
  
Maria descends before Bucky is fully out the door.  
  
"Please tell me the giant Superman statue fell on my head and that was some kind of concussion hallucination."  
  
Steve holds up his wrist on response. "Nope. Here's your proof."   
  
Maria shakes her head. "Steve, you aren't allowed to date a guy who asks you how to _win_ Dungeons and Dragons. I don't care how doe-eyed he is."  
  
"Whoa whoa whoa. Who said anything about dating?"  
  
"He obviously likes you. And you _clearly_ like him." She wriggles her hand underneath the cash register and pulls out the sketch.  
  
"No, he doesn't. And I don't like him _like that_ , either. I'm not sure I even like him period. "  
  
"I saw how he was looking at you. He wanted to buy comics so he could _impress you_. If that's not love, I don't know what is."  
  
"He's a football player. He's probably straight as a ruler and trying to use me to get to nerd girls he thinks have low self-esteem."  
  
"He gave you his _number_."  
  
"Lots of people give lots of other people their numbers for _lots of reasons_." Steve can feel himself losing control over his voice. It's too high and too loud. He clears his throat.  
  
"Nobody platonically writes their number on someone. That doesn't even _happen_ outside of dive bars."  
  
"How do you know? I don't even think you've _been_ to a dive bar."  
  
Maria gives him a stern look. "You don't know what I get up to, Rogers."  
  
She's right. He doesn't. The door clinks open again. Steve doesn't even look up. He could easily write off most of it, despite what Maria thinks. It was sort of normal for Bucky, at least. He's flirty and touchy-feely, like Kate. It made sense, Steve thinks, except for the wink. Steve probably imagined it. Bucky must have just blinked really fast. Or maybe it was just a joke. It was Bucky’s way of saying ‘I’m _so_ not interested in you that the thought of that possibility is a hilarious joke.’ Do people even wink at each other to be flirty anymore? Steve can't recall any wink he's ever observed that wasn't ironic. Except for Bucky's. Maybe.  
  
Maria leans in close to Steve. "I'd bet he's never even seen Star Trek. Not a single episode, not a single movie," she whispers.  
  
"Take that back," Steve almost shouts. "No, you're wrong. Take it back!" But Steve thinks about it a second. "He's probably seen the reboot."  
  
"What reboot? Who are we talking about?" Clint is standing at the counter with one of the new releases Steve had stocked last night.  
  
"Steve's new boyfriend. I don't think he's seen Star Trek."  
  
"Bullshit," Clint says, smacking his gum. "Steve doesn't even talk to people who don't like Star Trek."  
  
"That's not true. Natasha isn't a big fan."  
  
"Yeah, but Tasha appreciates the cultural and historical influence."  
  
Steve has never heard anyone refer to her as Tasha, and he's about to question Clint on it when Maria interrupts.  
  
"Not important, guys. What _is_ important is that our Stevie has a crush." Maria steps forward to ring Clint up.  
  
"He's probably straight. There's really no reason to get excited about anything."  
  
"Clint, you're a straight man, aren't you?" Maria says with a smirk.  
  
"Guilty as charged."  
  
"Would you, if you didn't care about comics whatsoever, start reading them with the sole intent of impressing a totally platonic bro-friend?"  
  
Clint considers the question for a moment as he retrieves his wallet. "I can't answer that question because I literally cannot fathom an alternate universe where I don't care about comics," Clint deadpans.  
  
"Okay. Fine. Would you take up ice skating for a platonic friend?"  
  
Clint scratches his nose. "Could I do archery while ice skating? Or are we talking just the skating part? Shooting arrows on ice sounds pretty sweet, actually."  
  
Maria sighs heavily. She yanks Steve's arm into Clint's eye line.  
  
"Would you do _this_ to a platonic friend?"  
  
Clint squints, frowning. "No. But I wouldn't do that to someone I had the hots for, either."  
  
Maria's face drops, just a little, but enough that Steve notices. "Why not?"  
  
"Because it's so _obvious_. When I like someone, my goal is to hide it as long as possible and kill my feelings before the other person finds out. This _clearly_ says 'Hello I want to put my mouth on or around your mouth.' It's more direct than I would ever be."  
  
Steve retracts his arm and looks down at it. "Well, actually, it clearly says 89-"  
  
"Oh my _god_ Steve you are hopeless,” Maria groans.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, can I get your opinion on something."
> 
> "Yes."
> 
> "Okay, so I -"
> 
> "No, I mean my opinion is yes. That's my answer. Yes."
> 
> Bucky scoffs. "Helpful. Real helpful."

Bucky has always loved running in the fall. The day is early enough to still be cool outside, and the campus is mostly deserted and serene. He runs side by side with Sam, but sort of wishes for a more talkative partner. Sam says he loses himself in the motions, switching off his brain and feeling more machine than man. Bucky does the opposite. His body runs on autopilot and his mind clears completely. Before big exams, he plays lectures through his headphones and his hardest subjects suddenly make more sense. Today, however, a cleared mind just leaves room for thinking about yesterday's mess.  
  
He's not _obsessing_ about it. Bucky Barnes does not _obsess_ over boys (or girls, for that matter) like a teenager with a crush. He especially does not obsess over scrawny nerds with big mouths. He's just _thinking_. He's just trying to figure out what's going on with Steve. Steve had _definitely_ started this whole thing. He had been drunk, yes, but he came on strong. Bucky had upped the ante in giving out his number, but he hadn't heard a word from Steve. Maybe it was too much too soon. Or maybe Bucky had read Steve all wrong.  
  
No way. Bucky had never been wrong before. He usually can tell how interested someone is within the first hour of meeting them.  
  
Unless he was wrong. There is a first time for everything.  
  
Not obsessing. Just thinking.  
  
He and Sam are close to finishing their first three-mile loop. Sam pulls out an earbud and glances over.  
  
"Wanna go again? Or you got somewhere to be?"  
  
Bucky shakes his head. "Not 'till noon. Hey, can I get your opinion on something."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Okay, so I -"  
  
"No, I mean my opinion is yes. That's my answer. Yes."  
  
Bucky scoffs. "Helpful. Real helpful."  
  
Sam replaces his earbud and grins, quickening his pace. Bucky curses and speeds up.  
  
\---  
  
At noon, Bucky heads to the biology building for his lab. It's a requirement he has been putting off for several semester now, especially after hearing his friends groan about being trapped in the dank basement for three hour blocks with an overzealous graduate student. He picks a seat at the lab table closest to the door, hoping he can dodge out early if it's as miserable as he thinks it will be. There's only a dozen people in the room, shifting on the squeaky stools and chatting softly. His own table only has one other person at it, all the way down at the end. Bucky checks his phone. Nothing from Steve. Or anyone else. He puts it away and scans the room. Most of these people look like they could be freshmen, and none are familiar. Bucky sighs and checks his phone again. Still nothing. He hears the loud clicking of heels down the hallway, and the door opens.  
  
"I know I'm late," the woman mutters. She's got a lab coat on over a purple dress, and long dark hair. The best thing about her, Bucky thinks, is her scowl. She looks like everyone in the room owes her five dollars, and she’s here to collect. She throws a messenger bag down near the computer and stands in the blank space at the front of the class.  
  
"Alright, I'm Kate Bishop, I'll be your lab TA this semester. You can call me Kate Bishop. Nothing else. We aren't on first name basis and I'm not a professor yet. None of us really want to be here on Friday afternoons, I assume, so let's all agree to get this stuff with minimal time and stupidity."  
  
Bucky is pretty sure he's going to like this class. She scans the room, stopping at the farthest table, Bucky's table.  
  
"You two, join one of these. There are two spots open. No need to be loners." She turns away to the computer, fingers clacking hard and fast against the keyboard. The other guy quickly nabs the open seat at the back end of the middle table, leaving Bucky the only option of sitting front and center. He sighs and takes the seat, smiling halfheartedly at the blonde girl next to him.  
  
Kate Bishop turns back to the whiteboard, where a PowerPoint is now being projected.  
  
"Okay, so. Let's start with the basics. Lab safety. Anyone here never been in a lab?"  
  
Two thirds of the class raise their hands hesitantly, including Bucky. She sighs heavily and clicks to the next slide.  
  
Bucky looks down at his lap, where his phone is resting between his thighs. The screen remains dark. It's going to be a long three hours.  
  
\---  
  
Buckhead [6:22PM]: dinner???  
Romanov Cocktail [6:23PM]: Come over. I ordered too much Chinese. Plans at 7 though, so be quick.  
Buckhead [6:24PM]: !!!! omw  
  
Natasha's apartment is one floor above Bucky's. The whole building is full of cramped single-occupant units, but it's nice to have her so close. He had pleaded with her for months to try to get her as a roommate, but she would always say they spent too much time together as it is. He had wanted to push the issue, but it wasn’t a lie. Still, she sometimes stomps on the floor when he won’t reply to her texts, so it’s _almost_ like she’s in the same apartment.   
  
Bucky doesn't knock. He just flings the door open and throws himself face-first onto Natasha's black leather couch.  
  
"I think I did something dumb."  
  
"I know, sweetie. Which thing?" Bucky can feel the cushion near his face shift and smell the salty food. He sits up and balances the plate on the arm of the couch.  
  
"Well, first, Steve got really drunk. Okay, not _really_ drunk. And it was kind of me that got him drunk."  
  
Natasha looks at him with wide eyes. "And?"  
  
"Nothing like that! God, Nat."  
  
"You act like I don't know your track record."  
  
"Yeah, okay, I know. But nothing happened. He flirted with me, though. Like, a lot."  
  
"Ohh. Was this the night where he told you about that time at The Mansion?"  
  
"What?" Bucky takes a bite of noodles. "Oh, yeah, when you made out. Yeah, it was then. So I was getting some serious vibes, you know. So I went to the comic shop yesterday and then I-."  
  
"You went in to his work to flirt with him?" Natasha rolls her eyes with a frown. "That's bold, even for you."  
  
"I didn't go there _intending_ to flirt with him," Bucky snaps. "I wanted to check out some comics he recommended. Or just some comics. I don't know. I just wanted to have something to talk to him about other than you."  
  
Natasha nods, her face softening. "And then?"  
  
"So I flirted with him a little. Or, I don't know. A lot, maybe." He sighs and then the words come out in a rush. "I gave him my number. And now I haven't heard from him and he's probably just a sad friendly little straight boy and I've just gotten worked up over nothing." Bucky shovels food into his mouth to keep himself from talking more.  
  
"So I don't get what the problem is. Did you skip some part where he threw up on your favorite shoes or told you about his girlfriend?"  
  
Bucky's jaw drops. "He has a _girlfriend_?"  
  
"No. Well, he has an ex-girlfriend. But what I-"  
  
Bucky groans. "I fuckin’ _knew_ he was straight," he mumbles through a mouthful of noodles.  
  
"What I'm _trying_ to say is that you're overthinking this. I've seen you interested in a lot of people over the years, Buck. A _lot_. It's rare for you to get worked up like this. You're not just scoping him out. I think you're interested in him as a human being. And if that's the case, you should be his friend before you try to make moves on him." She pats Bucky on the shoulder. "You know, like everyone else does."  
  
Bucky frowns. "Is that how you do it?"  
  
Natasha nods solemnly. "Most people are friends with their boyfriends first. That's how they know they'll be tolerable."  
  
"Maybe that's where I've gone wrong all these years." Bucky says through a laugh. It's only half a joke, really.  
  
"Well, that and you're sort of an ass." Natasha smiles sweetly at him and stands. Bucky notices her clothes for the first time, a white v-neck and black denim shorts. "You want a drink?"  
  
"Whoa. Wait. It’s fifty degrees out and you're wearing shorts. You said you had plans. Do you have plans with _the guy_?"  
  
"Yes, I have plans with the guy. Are you ever going to learn his name?"  
  
"Are you ever going to go on a real date with him?"  
  
"We've been on _dates_. We watch movies together all the time."  
  
"Taking a break from sex to watch Netflix is _not_ a date. I don't care if you're naked or not, it doesn't count. I'm pretty sure it's not normal."  
  
Natasha sighs and takes her seat on the couch again. "It's complicated, okay? He's afraid of commitment and I'm afraid I'll be a shitty girlfriend."  
  
"If that guy is afraid to commit to a girl like you, fuck him." Bucky smiles and waves his fork at her. "I mean like, forget him. Walk away. Because you, Nat, are the catch of the century. You're drop dead gorgeous, probably smarter than him, and going places in life. If he can't see it he isn't worth your time."  
  
Natasha smiles weakly. "Thanks, Buck. You're too sweet."  
  
"Nah, you said so yourself, I'm kind of an ass. I just gotta watch out for my best girl." She punches his shoulder and he smiles over another bite of noodles.  
  
\---  
  
Rumlow [8:38PM]: were tgh fuck r u barnes, every1 is here  
Bucky Barnes [8:39PM]: got a date tonight, sry bro  
Rumlow [8:41PM]: HOPE U GET LUCKY  
  
Bucky throws his phone onto his pillow and sighs. He's _not_ skipping the party in hopes he'll hear from Steve, and that’s really almost totally true. Rumlow is a douchebag, and Bucky doesn't have to tell him that his date is with some weird guy named Daredevil. It's pretty amazing seeing this blind guy pull off so many stunts. He's always known superheroes were about fighting bad guys, all about the action, but there are other parts, too. The guy who puts on the suit has a life just like the hero does, friends and enemies and thoughts. They're two different lives, but the same person. It's actually cool. Bucky thinks he's starting to get the whole comic book thing. He pulls the next issue out of his stack and opens it up, just to be sure, though. Maybe it will start being lame in this one.  
  
It doesn't take long for Bucky to finish all the issues he bought yesterday. When the last one closes, he's struck by how quiet his apartment is. It's not even 10:00 yet, but he's thinking of going to sleep. Maybe he'll watch a movie first. Bucky hops out of his bed and shuffles into the bathroom.  
  
The buzzing of his electric toothbrush clicks off and is replaced by the sound of chimes. They go on for a moment and Bucky is suddenly, and stupidly, he thinks, breathless. He spits in the sink. Someone is calling him. He races to the bed. It's a local number, but not one he has saved. Shit. It's gotta be Steve.  
  
He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair before picking up.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hey, uh, Bucky? It's Steve." His voice is tight and low.  
  
"Yeah, hey Steve. What's up?" Bucky clenches his free hand into a fist to stop it from trembling.  
  
"Listen, I really hate to do this, but I'm in kind of a jam right now, and I need some help."  
  
"Sure thing man, what's going on?" Bucky hates himself for being so eager. Still, an ounce of tension lifts. It’s not a call to tell him to permanently fuck off.  
  
"I need you to come pick me up from somewhere. I can give you gas money."  
  
"Okay. No problem. You have some car troubles? I'll grab my jumper cables, and I th-"  
  
"No, it's not like that. My car is fine. I'm fine. I'm at the Lee County Police Station. I can explain later."  
  
Bucky says nothing. He's got nothing to say to this.  
  
"Look, if you don't want to help me, fine, but at least give me Nat's number. I don't know it by heart and it wasn't written directly on me."  
  
Bucky lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "No, no it's fine. I'll leave right now. See you soon."  
  
Bucky slides off his pajama pants and shimmies back into his jeans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the shortness of this update and the rudeness of this cliffhanger. I promise I won't keep you waiting too long!


End file.
